


always the healer, never the healed

by PotofCoffee



Category: Holby City
Genre: Angst, Character Study, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:11:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotofCoffee/pseuds/PotofCoffee
Summary: Bernie Wolfe is 6 years old when she first understands that something can be her fault.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this incredible video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kt43_ZoxUJI) by my amazing friend Crystal

Bernie Wolfe is 6 years old when she first understands that something can be her fault. She won’t remember what she says or what she does but she will remember the hurt in her brother’s eyes. She will remember the guilt. Can never forget it. Isn’t sure if it will ever go away.

She causes hurt her entire childhood. She is too loud. Too gangly. Too reckless. Speaks too much and never says the right thing. Never realises until it’s too late. Guilt is especially cruel because it never warns her in advance.

It is her fault, again, at 13. When she looks at her best friend and sees nothing but sunshine and can’t help but press her lips against hers. Her fault when her friend recoils in disgust. Her fault when they never speak again.

Her fault, of course, when she leaves Marcus alone with the kids to follow her career. Her fault that Charlotte wails, her fault that Cameron hides from her like she’s a stranger when she returns home. Her fault that Marcus looks so tired, so done. Her life is a mess and it’s no one’s fault but her own.

Alex is her fault. No question about it. She is married and it is against the rules and she should probably, definitely know better. She makes the choice, she cheats. She feels like she can’t help herself but that is no absolution.

Her fault each and every time she puts her hands on a soldier's body and can't coax them back from the breach. She rarely remembers the names of those she saves but the names of those she’s lost are inscribed in her mind in indelible ink and when she closes her eyes they play before her like the credits to the most depressing film ever made.

Was the bomb her fault? Maybe not. But she’s used to feeling responsible and her heart feels as improvised and explosive as the device at the side of the road.

Definitely, definitely her fault for the fallout though. Her fault for lying, her fault for being scared, her fault when she can’t keep her life together despite her best intentions.

Guilt is only her constant.

Guilt and work. So she throws herself into the latter. She doesn’t take care of herself properly, never has known how to, really. When your life is pieced together between bombs and tragedies, you don't become an expert at self care. Compartmentalisation is the name of the game. Always the healer, never the healed.

And then suddenly there’s a new constant. Then there’s Serena.

Serena who smiles and listens and shares. Serena who forgives when she shouldn’t. When no one else ever has.

Life gets more confusing then.

Guilt grows hand in hand with her feelings. Serena is straight and Bernie has nothing to offer and it’s her own fault that her heart hurts so much. Her fault for having these feelings in the first place.

Fletch gets stabbed and it’s the first time she’s been responsible for a physical pain this extreme.

The guilt is overwhelming but Serena is there. Serena is sitting beside her on the cold theatre floor telling her that is fearless and fantastic. Smiling at her like she believes it.

So she kisses her.

She kisses Serena because she wants to. She kisses Serena because she's been thinking about it for weeks. She kisses Serena because it feels like the only possible reaction in that moment. But most of all she kisses Serena because she makes her feel—just for a second—like maybe it isn't her fault after all.

It is though, of course it is. It’s her fault that Serena is awkward and babbling and wishing herself dead. Her fault for mixing things up and assuming and hurting. She tries to fix it.

Confine it to theatre. Forget about it, never talk about it again. Her guilt is private and all consuming, her love is becoming harder and harder to ignore.

It is somehow, incomprehensibly her fault that Serena kisses her and says those things to her and implies that she might—

She runs because guilt is harder to bear standing still.

She goes to Kiev and works herself to the bone. Stands out in the bitter night and lets her lungs fill with smoke. Doesn’t move until her fingers are numb from the cold. Goes back inside and relishes the stinging pain as her skin warms because it’s the only time she lets herself feel. It is her penance and it is more than she deserves.

* * *

When Serena Campbell is 5 years old she knocks her mother's favourite vase onto the ground. Gorgeous, graceful, dark blue. She will forever remember in detail how it crashes to the ground. The way it arcs through the air, the sound it makes as it impacts the floor, the way it flies apart. She cries. Not just because of her mother’s imminent displeasure, but because it had been beautiful and she has destroyed it. She tries her best to pick up the pieces, plans to put them back together. Believes with only the most childishly honest intentions that she can glue them back together and it will be just as perfect as before.

Her mother finds her kneeling in the puddle on the floor, her blood mixing with the water. Serena learns that day that not everything can be fixed.

She develops a fascination with glass, learning the chemistry of how its made. Reads an endless number of books about it. Falls in love with the idea that mere sand and heat can make such exquisite beauty.

She finds a glass blowing shop when they are on holiday one year and lurks there for hours, watching intently. She needs to see everything. The man is an artist. He takes a lump of molten glass on the end of a metal rod and made the most beautiful things Serena has ever seen. She gasps when he makes a bowl and then drops it in water much too soon, when it’s still burning hot. Tiny delicate cracks cover the surface but the piece does not break. He heats it back up and tells her it is as strong as anything else he makes.

Fractured and whole. She learns the science behind it but still never fully grasps how something can look so broken but still be in one piece.

Then she meets Bernie Wolfe.

Bernie is beautiful and brilliant and Serena likes her from the first moment. She isn’t good at friendship but neither is Serena and Serena’s okay with that. But every moment with her seems to bring another crack showing through.

Liar.

Cheater.

Serena’s two least favourite things. But she suffers them on Bernie even though she doesn’t really know why. She does not understand her attraction but she lets herself be awed by this woman she barely knows. Makes the attempt to get to know her better. Never wants to let her go.

Bernie kisses her and as Serena kisses her back she realises that Bernie doesn’t remind her of the bowl. Bernie reminds her of the vase.

She is not still whole. She pretends to be. But the facade falls and Serena sees shards of blue at her feet. Beautiful. Tragic.

Serena wants to fix her so badly. Her only worry is she might break herself trying to put her back together.

She holds back for a moment, lets Bernie lead. Learns that that is a mistake. Learns that telling her how she feels is a bigger one.

Bernie runs and Serena feels like she’s the one who’s been dashed to pieces.

She gets sad and she gets angry. She pours herself some Shiraz and grips it too tight. Swears as the glass shatters in her hand.

For a moment the pain is enough to dissuade her. She cleans up the wound and grits her teeth against the burn of antiseptic. Tells herself that this is loving Bernie.

Tells herself that the vase will never be whole again. Tells herself that this is pointless. She goes to work and she goes home and she does a trial run of life without Bernie Wolfe.

Serena almost has herself convinced when she lets herself remember her. Not the way she ran or the way she hurt her but _her_. The soft eyes and cautious grin and soft lips and messy curls. The intellect and skill and devotion. The way she is constantly trying to save another life, can't let well enough alone, as though she is somehow trying to make up for a wrong she can never right. Serena realises then that she is worth it. That she will gladly spend the rest of her life trying to piece her back together.

So she wipes away her tears. Takes a breath. Sends an email. Sends a text. And another. Feels the cuts slice deep. Grabs a bandage as she waits for a reply.


End file.
